


Going to be Okay

by resonae



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Forced Voyeurism, Gang Rape, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resonae/pseuds/resonae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunt and Brandt are captured during the mission. Everyone knows that torturing Hunt won't get them any information. Maybe having fun with 'his little bitch' will set Hunt's tongue free?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going to be Okay

**Author's Note:**

> For Tumblr Anon's prompt.

Ethan spat out blood and glared. He kept silent through the entire ordeal and made no movement otherwise. So far they’d tried whipping him, electrocuting him and even waterboarded him, but he kept silent throughout the entire torture sequence. He knew Benji and Jane and Will were coming for him, and he was pretty certain they knew it too. They were hurried through the entire thing, and even the waterboarding was done not to its full extent, making it easier for him to withhold information.

 

“You think you have the upper hand.” The man kicked his shin, and he said nothing. “You’re so high and mighty. The Golden Boy of the IMF.” The man paced, and Ethan followed him lazily with his eyes. “Bring him in.”

 

Him? The man looked at Ethan triumphantly. “You think you were alone, here? We got our hands on two of you.” Ethan stiffened. Who was it? Jane? Benji? Brandt? He didn’t have to wonder much longer. Brandt was shoved into the room, bleeding from a cut on his head and drenched with water (waterboarding for him as well), and hands cuffed behind his back, but otherwise fine.

 

Brandt glanced at him for a brief moment before he was forced on his knees. “Not as good as the Golden Boy, I guess, but he’ll have his uses.” Ethan narrowed his eyes. They didn’t know Brandt was Chief Analyst. A glare from Brandt told Ethan to shut up. Not that he would have talked anyway. “Why is someone like him in your team, Ethan?” The man grabbed Brandt’s chin and tilted it up. “He’s a bit of a redundancy, isn’t he? You can do everything he can, except better.” Brandt glared, and Ethan winced a little inside. Brandt hated being compared to Ethan, and especially hated being told he was worse than Ethan, when their skill sets were just completely different. Still, Brandt did nothing but glare. “He’s a pretty little thing, though, isn’t he?”

 

Ethan frowned inwardly. “Pretty little thing” was the last phrase on his list of descriptions for Brandt. Sure, Brandt was attractive, but he was nothing like the implications of the phrase. Apparently Brandt didn’t like it either, because he was glaring even more fiercely. “I’m sure you’re aware that your team is trying to infiltrate the fortress to rescue the two of you. Your tech agent is doing quite well, indeed. I’m impressed.”

 

Ethan and Brandt exchanged glances. Benji. “However, we’ve set him loose on a little thread, and we’re quite certain he’s not going to be making much progress for the next three hours. Which gives us plenty time to get some information.”

 

Ethan wasn’t prepared for what came next – he was bludgeoned over the head with one of the guns, and in his disorientation, they grabbed him and tied him to the far wall, arms high over his head and legs firmly to the ground. He glared when his head cleared. Brandt looked a little worried but had not moved – the gun was still pointing to his head, and Ethan knew Brandt would not move unless either of their lives was in danger. And the men – Ethan counted five – didn’t seem intent on killing any of them.

 

Ethan honestly did not know what they wanted. They wanted information on the new weapon plan, which was something Ethan did not know. But he had no doubts that Brandt knew, and hoped that they kept thinking Brandt was just a regular agent.

 

“He’s your little bitch, isn’t he, Ethan?” Ethan stared, and Brandt’s eyes were wide. So they thought – Ethan fought an urge to laugh on the spot. They couldn’t be more wrong, and Brandt looked incredibly offended. “I have a way of making you talk.” There was a nod, and Brandt was kicked down. A foot landed solidly on his neck, and Brandt stayed still, aware the foot could easily break his neck.

 

It wasn’t until the knife came out and started cutting at Brandt’s soaked clothes that Ethan – and Brandt – realized what was happening. Ethan’s eyes widened. “Stop it.” He hissed. “You won’t get anything by doing this.”

 

The man looked like it was his birthday. “Oh?” He grinned. “But you’re already talking.”

 

Ethan ignored the man and looked directly at Brandt, who was completely still under the foot on his throat as clothes were cut off of him. “You’ll find, Ethan, that some of my boys are rather sexually frustrated. Comes with the job, you see.” The man bent and gripped Brandt’s chin. “Ah, he’s shaking.”

 

Ethan didn’t need to be told. Brandt did not meet his eyes, but he saw the faint trembling that ran along the otherwise still body.  Fuck. He wanted to scream. Fuck. The four men – not including the obvious leader – were staring at Brandt’s bare body like it was food, eying his naturally sun-kissed body hungrily, ready to devour. “Stop this.” He tried, desperately. “I know nothing.”

 

“And I’m the president of the United States.” The man crowed. “Well, boys, have your way with him. Mister Hunt will start talking when he’s had enough.”

 

Ethan saw Brandt attempt to struggle, but four big men were too much. His legs were grabbed and spread, his neck gripped, and there was no lube or preparation. Ethan turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut, but Brandt’s choked breath told him what he needed to know. “That won’t do, Ethan.” The man cooed, gripping Ethan’s chin and forcing his head back. “You have to _look_. Do it, or I’ll shoot him through the head.”

 

Ethan gritted his teeth and opened his eyes. The men were already all over him, touching and rubbing on Brandt on every bit of skin. There was, as he expected, someone behind him, between spread thighs, pounding mercilessly into him. Brandt’s eyes were screwed shut, and there was another man, holding his jaw open by squeezing his cheeks and thrusting his cock into unwilling lips.

 

Tears. There were tears. They were forcing their way past Brandt’s closed lids, and even though Brandt was making no sound of distress, there were tears dripping from his chin down onto the floor. And then there were blood, making droplets on the ground between his knees. Ethan couldn’t see the origin, but there was no doubt where it was coming from.

 

They were laughing. Laughing and grunting and panting in arousal, and Brandt was crying and bleeding. Ethan growled low in his throat and he pulled fiercely around it, but the man next to him merely laughed. “Don’t like sharing, do you, Ethan?” The man drawled. When the one that had been taking Brandt from the behind groaned and shuddered, thrusting inward and trembling as he came, Brandt tore his head away from the man he was forced to suck vomited. Ethan pulled harder at his bonds.

 

There was more laughing, and Ethan watched as they rotated, as the analyst was taken brutally four times and then thrown to the ground. Brandt weakly turned his head away from Ethan, but Ethan saw the bruises that were forming from rough fingers on the chin and the cheeks. And the rest of his body, littered with bruises from fingers and teeth and harsh sucking, along with the trickle of red blood and white semen that was leaking from between his legs to the floor, told Ethan everything.

 

“Feel like talking now? And no lies, Ethan. I’d know.”

 

“I know nothing.” Ethan hissed. “Absolutely nothing. It was one of the projects I didn’t look into on purpose. I know none of the details.”

 

The man sighed dramatically. “Well, he still won’t talk. Time for stage two.”

 

Stage two? Ethan saw Brandt’s body freeze, and the men eagerly surrounded Brandt again. Brandt let out a whimper when he was penetrated again, and when he was lifted up and flipped so the man was below him, looked confused. He was pushed down, and Ethan yelled when he saw a second man nudging Brandt’s already torn and re-bleeding opening. Brandt froze and turned his head away from Ethan again.

 

“Stop! Stop! The plan, it’s not in any electronic format except in a USB that is in one of the most secure safe boxes under the IMF building. Everything else is on paper, filed by the Chief Analyst of the IMF, and I don’t know where the paper copies are.” It was a blatant lie. Brandt had everything on a highly-encrypted computer that wasn’t connected even to the internet. Everything was filed directly onto the computer by Brandt himself, or the Secretary – no one else, not even Ethan, saw what was on the computer.

 

“Lies.” The man sighed. “I know it’s on the computer, Ethan. I need to know _where the computer is_ and who the fuck the Chief Analyst is so we can _get into the computer._ Or details, Ethan, details of the weapon plan. Any one of the above, and you didn’t give me anything. Now your little bitch is going to pay for it.”

 

Ethan yelled when the second man forced its way in, and he swore he heard skin tear. Brandt could not even bite his lip – he screamed around the cock in his lips, sobbing openly now as the three men in his body started to move and the remaining one pushed his cock on Brandt’s cheek, poking his eyes and cheek and anywhere else he could reach.

 

Ethan watched in horror for another half an hour as the men rotated, joking about how they wanted to lock Brandt up and sell him as a prostitute. Brandt collapsed again onto the cold floor, curling up reflexively to protect himself. He whimpered and shook when a black cloth was folded around his eyes and he was forced up on his knees by his hair.

 

“Bring him this way. That’s good.” Ethan was bewildered by what was happening. The man unbuckled his pants and forced Brandt’s jaw open – it fell open without much resistance, and the other man groaned. “A good little whore.” He grunted. “Gag Ethan for me, would you?”

 

Ethan struggled against the bonds, but could do nothing as cloth was forced into his lips, and then he watched in horror as they undid his belt and unbuckled his pants. He was hard, and ashamed for it. “Ah, Ethan. You’re a true man. Got aroused watching your little bitch get raped, did you?”

 

Brandt was turned so his ass was facing Ethan, and Ethan saw the extent of the damage. The anus was torn – mangled was the better term – and bleeding profusely. Brandt’s thighs quaked, and Ethan had no doubts of rectal bruising and tearing. He yelled around the gag, screaming, but Brandt was pushed back on him, and Brandt let out a soft whimper that hurt more than anything as Ethan’s cock was forced into him.

 

I don’t want this, Ethan wanted to scream at Brandt. I don’t want to hurt you. But hot heat enveloped him, slick with blood and semen, and Ethan gritted his teeth as hands forced Brandt to move. “He’s going to come inside you, little slut. You be a good little cunt and milk him, would you, whore?”

 

Ethan tried to hold back as much as he could – but his body had limits, and he found himself hanging barely on the edge, gritting his teeth against the cloth gag, when he heard the loud scream. He blinked to see the man howling in pain. Brandt was still sheathed around him, but his upper body was on the floor, where he had been struck down. Ethan strained and saw a ring of blood around the base of the man’s cock and understood that Brandt had bitten down.

 

“Fucking bitch.” The man hissed, half in pain and half in anger. “Doesn’t know his place, does he, the little bitch?” Ethan gritted his teeth against impending orgasm and Brandt tensed, tightening around him. “I tried to make it good for you, little whore. I gave you Ethan _Hunt_ and what do you do? You bite down on my cock.”  
  


Brandt was ripped away from Ethan, and Ethan didn’t know if that was good or bad. Bad, definitely, he decided, when he saw two men take his place. Brandt gritted his teeth against the scream that would have escaped, his hands curling against the rope tying them back.

 

He was yanked up by his hair and tugged forward until Ethan’s hard cock was rubbing against his lips and cheek. Brandt looked up, resignation clearly written in his eyes. “Fuck.” Ethan hissed. “ _Don’t do-_ ” His words were clipped off as Brandt’s jaw was pried open and his cock was forced in. He fought not to buck his hips and felt Brandt shudder.

 

His cock was resting heavily on Brandt’s tongue, which Brandt kept perfectly still. Brandt was looking at him with desperation, teeth shaking around Ethan as the men behind him raped him ruthlessly. Ethan saw a single tear escape from the corner of Brandt’s left eye.

 

It wasn’t just the pain, Ethan knew, because both of them had been through worse pain. But it was the humiliation of the broken privacy and degradation of being made into a sex object, being tortured not even because he was valuable but because he could act as the midway. Ethan wanted to wrench his hands free and touch Brandt’s face, rub his cheeks to tell him everything was all right. Instead, Brandt closed his eyes.

 

“Bite down.” The man said. Brandt’s eyes reopened. “Bite down, like you did to my cock. Can’t be too hard, can it?” Ethan scowled, bewildered. What would that prove anything? The two men that had been grunting behind Brandt pulled out, a trail of semen in their wake, and the man stood behind Ethan. “Bite down, little whore.”

 

Brandt looked up at Ethan, and then glanced defiantly at the man. He then started to suck. Wantonly. Ethan had to fight back a groan as Brandt flattened his tongue against the bottom of his shaft and sucked until his cheeks hollowed, pushing Ethan’s cock down his throat and acting as if Ethan’s cock was the best thing he’d tasted in his life.

 

Brandt was defying in the only way he could. The man screeched in anger. He shoved his cock inside Brandt, but Brandt only tensed for a moment and returned back to his ministrations on Ethan’s cock. “Fuck you.” The man hissed. “You’ve made a fool out of me long enough.”

 

Ethan saw it and understood what was going on even before the gun was pushed to Brandt’s side. He opened his mouth to say something, but the gun rang clear and Brandt went still before he collapsed, coughing blood. The man had shot Brandt through the back, right through where his stomach should have been. Blood and black bile oozed from the wound, and Ethan’s body tensed as Brandt convulsed, shaking violently.

 

Stomach wound. It wouldn’t kill Brandt right away, but the stomach acid would poison his bloodstream, contaminate his other organs. It was the worst way to die. His mind raced, trying to find a way out. His mind was screaming at him _get something get help get out of this save Brandt!_ But he could come up with nothing.

 

There was a cruel laughter and Brandt was kicked over onto his back. Brandt was shaking and the result of the kick caused him to whimper and cough up more blood. _Do something_ , Ethan’s mind screamed. _He’s dying._ Ethan pulled with all the strength he had, struggling and shouting and cursing in all the languages he knew. Then there was a dull crunching sound and a faint throbbing in his wrists, but suddenly he could move his hands and he was able to wrench his ankles free.

 

There was shooting, shouting, yelling, and – a female voice? There hadn’t been a female voice before. He would have stopped to check, really he would have, but a blunt blow to the back of his head had him falling. At least someone caught him before he crashed onto the ground.

 

\--

 

He woke up to a large hospital room. “Hey, Ethan’s up.” Jane. It was Jane’s voice he’d heard in the room. “How are you feeling?” Her voice was gentle.

 

“Like someone crashed my head with a hammer.” He confessed, groaning. He struggled to sit up and noticed both of his wrists were bandaged. “What happened to them?”

 

“You broke them, breaking free of the chains.” Jane replied softly. “Two months to heal. You’re not supposed to do anything strenuous with them, period.” She glanced slightly over at his wrists and then sighed. “Brandt is… he’s there.” She moved slightly to clear his view, and Ethan saw the analyst on the bed on the other side, Benji next to him. Ethan took the sign that he wasn’t in ICU that Brandt was going to be all right. As if reading his mind, Jane sighed. “Surgery went well, and the wound was clean. He didn’t get blood poisoning, and the wound was easily patched up. He’s going to be living on fluids for a while, but otherwise he’s going to be fine.”

 

Ethan pushed himself out of bed. Jane didn’t stop him, but paused to take the IV rack with them so Ethan could see. Benji got out of the chair so Ethan could sit, and Ethan collapsed into it. “How about… his other wounds?”

 

Benji cleared his throat. “Rectal tearing, anal bruising, anal tearing, and heavy infection. But he’s clean.” Ethan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “He’s not going to be walking properly for a bit, and he’s gonna be running a fever for a bit, but he’s going to be all right. The doctors think he’ll be cleared to leave in two weeks, maximum. He’s strong.”

 

Strong. Ethan reached up with his left hand – they’d left that one not as tightly bandaged as his right – and stroked Brandt’s face. “He’ll get through this.”

 

“Yeah.” Jane whispered, nodding. “ _We’ll_ get through this.”

 

\--

 

It was another twelve hours before Brandt woke up. Even then, Ethan only knew because he’d been staring intently at the analyst, waiting for him to wake up. Brandt said nothing for a bit, but then sighed. “I feel like shit.” He rasped.

 

“You’re gonna be okay.”

 

“I know that.” Brandt snapped. He stopped himself of saying something else, and sighed, defeated. “I know that. It’s happened before.” Ethan’s eyes widened. “When I was in college. I was a thin little kid back then, and a sort of a nerd. I got on the bad side of some of the jocks and they…” Brandt trailed off and shuddered. Ethan stared. “I’m going to be okay.” Brandt whispered again, and Ethan wondered if that was for Ethan, or for himself.

 

Brandt was discharged 13 days later, just below the doctor’s prediction, and refused on a wheelchair, even though he had a horrible limp and had to rest to recover himself after a few steps. Ethan drove him back home after signing his own discharge forms – he’d stubbornly stayed hospitalized until Brandt was cleared. “Jane and Benji threw a fit when they got a mission.” Ethan said, and saw a ghost of a smile on Brand’t s lips.

 

He helped Brandt get settled back in, and didn’t bother driving back home. Brandt didn’t ask him to leave, so he stayed, fixing dinner – soup for Brandt – while Brandt slept. Brandt woke up two hours later, rubbing his eyes sleepily and limping badly. “You shouldn’t be walking so much.” Ethan said, and because Brandt looked pained, added, “Your stomach needs rest.”

 

Brandt flicked him a glance and smiled painfully. “So does my ass, I know.” He sighed. He winced as he slid into the chair and prodded at the soup Ethan placed in front of him. “Thanks. For, you know, everything.” He whispered, and chuckled lightly, “I’m going to be all right.”

 

Ethan nodded cautiously. “..Yeah.”

 

And Ethan believed it, at least for a while. He visited Brandt every day, and he seemed to be doing well. Brandt complained about the soup, joked liberally about how he walked like a toddler, and insisted on at least going to shooting ranges with Ethan.

 

“Twice.” Brandt said one day, prodding at the soup in front of him. When Ethan frowned, Brandt looked up. “The jocks back in my college. They raped my twice. Once during freshman year, and then again sophomore year. I think they would have done more, except I got my guts up and told my Physics professor. The three of them got apprehended and well... expelled. Their parents had enough money to keep them from getting into real trouble, so in the end nothing really happened. But they left me alone after that.”

 

Ethan said nothing, wondering why Brandt was suddenly telling him this. He sat across from Brandt and wondered what he should be doing. Brandt looked up from his soup and sighed. “Fuck.” He cursed lowly, and Ethan noticed his hand was shaking. “I’m going to be okay.” He said again, and Ethan stood.

 

“Brandt.” Ethan said, hands out. “Brandt, let’s get you back to bed.”

 

Brandt didn’t argue, and accepted Ethan’s help as he helped him up. Ethan tried to put him down back gently, but Brandt held onto his shoulders. “Ethan.” Brandt whispered. “When… when they made you do it to me, you were aroused. You were watching me, and it made you hard.”

 

Ethan flushed. “God. Brandt, I’m so sorry. I… I couldn’t control – I mean…”

 

Brandt shook his head. “Would you like to do it?” Ethan froze and stared. Brandt’s gaze was calm, and he’d stopped shaking. When Ethan opened his lips to protest, Brandt shook his head. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I’m asking if you want to do it.”

 

Ethan should have said no. Brandt was still recovering, and his body was nowhere near in a state to be engaging in sex. Not to mention the doctors had forbidden workout on Ethan’s wrists, because even though they were basically healed, they still needed time to become strong, and even now were covered in bandages. But he nodded, because Ethan Hunt had always been a man of action.

 

He gently pushed Brandt’s loose shirt up, mindful of the bandages still wound tightly around his torso. He fingered where he knew the wound was, and Brandt winced a little. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” Ethan whispered. “Sex is going to be a little rougher than me just touching it.”

 

Brandt nodded. “I’m going to be okay.” He whispered, and Ethan wondered if he should keep count on how many times Brandt said it. It was like a mantra, something Brandt needed to tell himself and announce to others to make sure it really was going to happen. Ethan wondered if the Brandt in college did the same thing.

 

Pants and briefs followed slowly, and Brandt made an expert work of the buttons on Ethan’s shirt and pants. He paused at Ethan’s boxer shorts, and Ethan wondered if he was having second thoughts about the entire thing, but then moved to divest Ethan of his last piece of clothing. Brandt’s hands were calloused but gentle on Ethan’s bare skin. “You’ve got scars all over the place.” Brandt wondered softly, running his hands over marred flesh.

 

Ethan wondered if it was okay to kiss Brandt. “You’re the one to talk.” He whispered. And currently out of the two of them, the blonde was definitely the worse. Bruises that hadn’t quite faded yet, even after a month, littered his inner thighs the tops of his hips. If the bandages across his midsection weren’t there, Ethan knew he’d see finger-shaped bruises imprinted into the waist, and the thought made his insides churn.  
  


Brandt seemed to know what he was thinking and he moved his hands up, cupping Ethan’s face in his hands. “I’m going to be okay.” He whispered, again, and Ethan closed his eyes and nodded. Right. “Condom and lubricant in the bottom drawer.” Right. Ethan reached over awkwardly, careful not to nudge any of Brandt’s injuries. It took him a bit of digging to find the condom, and he found no lube. Brandt looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Might have thrown it out. Haven’t had sex in a while. Well. Consensually.” Ethan winced and Brandt sighed. He leaned over a bit, careful not to twist his bullet wound, and dug through the other drawers. “Okay, we can use this.”

 

Brandt handed Ethan a bottle of hand lotion. Ethan wondered how they were going to do this. Brandt was going to be uncomfortable in any position, not only because of the stomach wound but also because… Ethan swallowed thickly. He doubted the bruising and the tearing had healed at all. Brandt was constantly moving, something the doctors kept warning him about, and he’d ended up back at the hospital twice already because he reopened his tears walking around. Ethan didn’t know how sex would help. Brandt seemed to read his mind. “I got it. Can you… It’s in the bathroom. White tube, no labels, it should be on the top shelf in the shower.”

 

Ethan rose quickly and found the tube easily. “What is it?” He sat back down next to Brandt.

  
“It’s… Well, it’s ointment. For the.. for the tearing. The doctor gave it to me last week when I went so I could just put it on for myself when I tore myself again. You can use it as lubricant instead.” Brandt was blushing, a little, but he seemed firm on what he wanted to do.

 

Ethan nodded, but he was only a little placated. If he had a choice, he’d rather not tear Brandt at all. He was going to have to be incredibly careful with the prepping. He still laid himself beside Brandt in favor of on top or between his legs. He was going to deal with the positioning at the last minute possible. “Are you… I didn’t know you were gay.”  
  


Brandt shrugged. “I was never attracted to women. Dated a couple of guys, back in high school.” He confessed softly. “But after the college thing, I was too scared to really trust guys, either. It’s not often I really have sex.”

 

 _But I trust you_ , was the implication. Ethan felt something swell in his chest, and he promised himself Brandt wasn’t misplacing it. “Do you usually bottom?”

 

Brandt nodded, looking a little sheepish. “It’s.. Well, I’ve topped before, and it’s not really my thing.” He rubbed his cheeks, looking like he wanted to rub away at the red. “Just a preference.”

 

Ethan managed a grin. “That’s good, because my preference is topping.”

 

“You’ve had sex with men before? Wait, don’t answer that. I’m not actually surprised.” Brandt was smiling now, and Ethan let his hands trail on the firm stomach, wishing he could actually touch the skin instead of the bandages. “Come here. It’ll be better for both of us. Just… Just hold off on your weight, a bit.” Brandt spread his thighs a little. When Ethan hesitated, he widened the space between them and tugged Ethan over. “Watch your weight and I’m going to be okay.”

 

Ethan settled between Brandt’s thighs, and his hands ghosted along the dotted bruises there. He shifted forward a bit, moving a pillow beneath Brandt’s back as he rested Brandt on his lap so Brandt wouldn’t have any pressure on his stomach. He cautiously spread Brandt open a little wider and hissed at the dark bruising around the sensitive flesh. “This is going to hurt.”

  
“I’m going to be okay. Just be gentle.” Brandt said, but Ethan didn’t miss the tremble in his voice. Ethan rubbed circles on Brandt’s inner thighs and wondered if he could kiss Brandt. He leaned forward a little, his hands still at Brandt’s thighs, and gently touched their foreheads together. “You can kiss me.” Brandt whispered, his voice trembling. “If you want.”

 

Ethan took the invitation right away. He was gentle because Brandt didn’t need any sort of forced entry, or too-passionate touches. What he needed was warm and gentle and slow. The kiss was almost chaste, with Ethan licking into Brandt’s mouth cautiously and slowly, with none of the fierceness Ethan usually kissed with. But in the end it left both of them breathless, and Brandt giggled a little.

 

Ethan reached for the hand lotion first. He rubbed his hands with it and took Brandt’s semi-hard cock in his right hand, smiling a little at the slight gasp. “Don’t buck up, or you’ll hurt yourself. I’ll grind down if you need it, just tell me.” Brandt nodded. “Hold onto me.” Brandt’s hands came up under Ethan’s arms to clutch at his back as Ethan gently guided his own hardening member to Brandt’s. He shuddered when they touched and felt Brandt echo his movements. “Don’t buck up.” He reminded, and slowly rubbed his lotioned hand over both of them, and used his left hand to anchor Brandt upward.

 

Their pants filled the room, Brandt’s breath puffing across Ethan’s shoulder and Ethan’s huffs spreading past Brandt’s ear. “Oh, God.” Brandt whispered. “F-faster, Ethan, please.” Ethan sped his hands a little, pulling up and down a little faster at Brandt’s request. He felt Brandt quivering almost violently under him, blunt nails digging into his back, and knew how close he himself was.

 

Usually, if Ethan was feeling a little evil during sex, he’d stop now and fuck his partner to both their orgasm. But he took one look at Brandt, eyes clenched shut and trembling like a newborn deer on its new legs, and decided to kiss him instead. Brandt accepted it, but instead of a long kiss, Ethan broke away every second, because both of them were so close and they needed to breathe.

 

They came almost simultaneously. Ethan thought he might have been a split second earlier, but no one was taking note and Ethan settled his weight against Brandt’s unwounded side, drawing the kiss out this time and making a note to change Brandt’s bandages later when they were done. Brandt seemed to be content as he rubbed his face on Ethan’s shoulder, and Ethan had no qualms about ending it here. “Going to sleep?” He whispered, because Brandt really looked like he would fall asleep.

 

But Brandt shook his head. “No, I… I want to go all the way.”

 

“Only if you’re sure.”

 

“Don’t forget I asked for this.” Brandt said, the sleepiness gone and replaced by a mischievous glint.

 

Ethan took the tube from the bedside table. “I’m going to take it slow.”

 

Brandt smiled. “Please.” He closed his eyes and Ethan swallowed thickly again. He squeezed out a bit of the ointment onto his fingers, careful not to waste too much. He caressed Brandt’s thighs softly and Brandt smiled, eyes still closed. “Go ahead.”

 

Ethan spread the globes of flesh again and gritted his teeth at the brutal bruising. Slow, he reminded himself. He rubbed his index finger with lubricant to make sure for smooth entrance, and pushed carefully at the pucker. Brandt shifted a little as Ethan’s finger slid inside, but didn’t look uncomfortable or in pain, so Ethan started to move cautiously.

 

Tight inside, Ethan thought, shivering a little. His cock remembered how it had felt inside Brandt, even though that time it had been against both of their wishes. He crooked his finger a little and searched in the general area where he knew the prostate was. “Don’t tease.”

 

“I’m not, I’m just looking.” Ethan chuckled. “Help me a little, you must know where it is.”

 

To Ethan’s surprise, Brandt flushed a dark red. “I.. Uh. I don’t know. None of the people I had sex with really knew what they were doing, and uh.” Brandt flushed and trailed off, and Ethan stopped. “Ethan?”

 

Ethan sighed. “And you still enjoy being on the bottom?” He withdrew his finger, added more ointment and smiled gently. “I’ll teach you why you should really enjoy it.” He pushed his index finger inside again, extremely careful once again. It took a little more prodding for him to find the slight bump, and when he did Brandt’s body clenched down on him.

 

Brandt’s eyes were squeezed shut. “O-oh, god. Do it again.” He whispered, and Ethan did, massaging it gently in favor of hard stimulation. Brandt trembled and Ethan smiled, continuing his ministrations to keep Brandt shaking and squirming while squeezing out more ointment and sliding a second finger in. Brandt barely seemed to notice, but Ethan kept himself at a slow, careful pace.

 

The third finger also slid in without much resistance. Brandt was breathing hard and Ethan worried for a second it might irritate his abdomen, but Brandt gripped at his wrists, then gasped and moved his hands to his elbows. “More, please?” Brandt whispered, shaking. “Please, it feels so good.”

 

Ethan didn’t know if ‘more’ meant Brandt wanted his cock now or if it meant that Brandt wanted more of what he was doing. Experimentally, he continued his gentle massaging of the gland and Brandt gripped harder at his elbows. “You like this?” He said, his voice breathy.

 

“ _Yes_. Oh, God.” Brandt was clawing at his elbows, body trembling on top of Ethan’s lap. Ethan was worried the bruising might be irritated, but Brandt seemed to only focus on the pleasure as Ethan worked his magic.

 

Ethan was mesmerized. Brandt had always been the collected, cool-headed analyst who scoffed at Benji’s and Ethan’s idiocy. In an affectionate way, of course, but Ethan had always seen Brandt to be someone above being broken down. But then the rape happened, and now this. But Brandt was _beautiful_ , stripped of the complex thought strings and intelligence and reduced to emotions and feelings. On impulse he leaned down to kiss Brandt again and Brandt complied eagerly.

 

“Can you come from this?” Ethan wondered, watching the way bruised flesh eagerly swallowed his fingers.

 

“I don’t know.” Brandt whispered, trembling as he did when he was on the verge of orgasm as before, and Ethan thought the answer was yes. But he wanted Brandt to finish during the main course, and squeezing three orgasms out of Brandt in his current condition was probably not the smart thing.

 

But still, he asked, in case Brandt wanted more. “Can I… I’d like to fuck you now.”

 

Brandt smiled up with a flushed face. “That sounds perfect, but just..”

 

“Slow. I know.” Ethan breathed. He fumbled with the condom, which was a little embarrassing, but Brandt didn’t seem to notice. The condom was already lubricated, of course, but he still squeezed ointment over it. He’d have to go to the hospital and get Brandt a new tube tomorrow. “Ready?” Brandt nodded, and there was no hesitation in it.

 

Still, Ethan pressed slowly. Brandt’s hands on his elbows squeezed again and his eyes squeezed shut, and Ethan stopped. “It’s okay.” Brandt whispered. “I’m going to be okay. Just feels like someone’s pressing down on a bad bruise.”

 

“That’s pretty much what I’m doing.” Ethan winced. “I can stop.”

 

“I can’t. Go on.” Brandt’s eyes opened and he smiled softly. “It’s okay.”  In any case, Ethan bit his lip and squeezed more ointment on, because he was fairly certain Brandt was going to tear again, and he wanted at least some sort of precaution for when it happened.

 

The penetration was agonizingly slow, Brandt’s heat tugging at him hotter and tighter than Ethan remembered, and in the middle Ethan saw a thin trail of red, but Brandt tugged at his elbows and urged him to ignore it. He ended up pressing his forehead to Brandt’s cheek, breathing hard in an effort to keep his hips from jerking. “How’s your stomach?”

 

“It’s fine.” Brandt had his eyes closed. “Don’t move yet.”

 

“I won’t.” Ethan promised. “How’s… how is it? Does it hurt?”

 

Brandt nodded honestly, but he nudged Ethan’s face up to nibble on the tip of Ethan’s nose. “It’s fine. It’ll pass, and I’m going to be okay.” Ethan reached up a little more, careful not to force Brandt’s stomach too much, so he could kiss the analyst. Brandt was trembling lightly, half from exertion and half from being filled, and Ethan found it incredibly arousing. “Next time we do this, you can pound me into the mattress.”

 

Ethan didn’t mention how he hadn’t even thought of a next time. “Then the next time’s going to be when you’re all healed.”

 

Brandt chuckled and ran his fingers up Ethan’s arms to clutch at his back again. “I think you can move now. But-”

 

Ethan interrupted with a soft chuckle. “Slow. I know.” He pulled out carefully, not missing Brandt’s wince. He was even more careful as he pushed in. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, bearing his weight on his elbows on either side of Brandt’s head. “I can’t… I can’t make it better yet.”

 

Brandt only nodded. Both of them knew that Brandt was going to be hurting until his body adjusted completely, and Ethan forced himself to be painfully slow, moving barely an inch at a time. Brandt was still clamping down on him, and Ethan knew it must feel like someone rubbing harshly on a bad bruise, back and forth, and he tried desperately to think how he could make it better.

 

“Wait.” Brandt suddenly said, voice strained. Ethan froze. “Can you – just… just push in all the way – yeah, like that. Can you – just… I just need to take a breath.”

 

Ethan stilled his hips and sought Brandt’s lips, his mind racing through the millions of way he knew how to pleasure his partner during sex. But all of them came out as too rough or too fast. He’d never had sex with a recovering rape victim before, and he was certain this wasn’t normal. “Maybe we should stop.” Ethan said desperately. “You aren’t ready for this yet.”

 

“No, stop.” Brandt’s thighs trembled with effort, but he managed to wrap his legs around Ethan. “I need this. I’m going to be okay, Ethan. Just gimme a little time. I’m going to be okay.”

 

Ethan paused. “Promise me one thing, then.” Brandt forced his eyes open, quizzical. “I can wait as long as you need me to. I don’t want you to tell me you’re okay when you’re not because you think I’ll call it quits.” He was answered with a dazzling smile and a breathy gasp of thanks. Brandt hugged him closer, strong arms squeezing firmly around his shoulders.

 

Brandt needed only a minute or two, even though it felt like hours stretched on end. Ethan kept his pace slow, applying liberal amounts of ointment every time he remembered, until Brandt tugged him closer. Movements started to get easier, but Ethan was hesitant to start moving any faster. Faster in this case still meant slow and easy, but lightly pushing at bruises still hurt, and there were spots of blood flecked on the sheets below them.

 

It was apparently enough for Brandt, who was trembling again. Slow sex gets him off, Ethan realized, pushing just a hitch faster to have Brandt’s head arch back. Ethan angled his thrusts so he hit Brandt’s prostate each time, and perhaps hit was the wrong word – it was more like he brushed on it, and it sent quivers through the analyst’s entire being.

 

It wasn’t long until Brandt hit orgasm. It was a slow orgasm, one Ethan wasn’t used to, but it seemed to suit Brandt fine. Brandt’s body clamped down hard on Ethan, and it was enough stimulation to send him over the edge as well.

 

“I’m going to be okay.” Brandt whispered when Ethan pressed their forehead together.

 

“Yeah.” Ethan whispered. “Yeah, you are.” And this time, he believed it.


End file.
